


Justice

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Integrated Worlds [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Death, D is scary sometimes, Gen, idk what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: D has to take some drastic measures against a highblood when he sees some shit about to go down.





	Justice

The big rule when D takes you to the market is that you have to hold onto either him or one of the other grownups. That's to keep you safe, to keep you from getting lost or scooped up by a confused lusus (which is a dumb idea; three sweeps is too old for that and why would a lusus ever adopt a human anyway?) or returned to the thingy at the spaceport. Hal can say the word, but you can't remember it in Alternian or in English. Too many syllables. 

Hal is not here for you to ask. Your twin's with Darkleer and Signless today; you had the choice to go with him or to come to the market with Mindfang, Dualscar, and your guardian. You picked the market. Let Hal have all the attention from Darkleer for once; you know that it bothers him when the blueblooded troll focuses on teaching you how to put robots together so they do what you want to. 

This is fun, anyway. Right now you've got a firm grip on Mindfang's long coat, watching all the people around you as she tries to bargain a shopkeeper down on his price for blood-eel. The hand that's not holding onto her is sticky with the remains of the treat that Dualscar bought you a bit ago. That thing was _sweet_ , more than most Alternian food, tinted a deep pinkish that reminds you of Feferi's shoulders when she got sunburned. D said the color and taste were because it was partially made from a plant from the human planet of origin, one of the few that're a functioning part of the cultural exchange. 

You like the taste of the sweetened, flavored grubmeal, but don't really understand why he called a nonthreatening tuber a beat. They don't seem dangerous enough to attack, from what D's told you. Why would you beat it? 

Without D himself in range to ask, you keep contemplating that question, licking your fingers clean as you do. There's not a lot of kids here, which is sad but understandable—Eridan, Vriska, and Aranea all begged _not_ to go. Most troll kids have an instinctive dislike of crowded spaces and unfamiliar adults, at least until they have their adolescent molt. That's why you see plenty of six- and seven-sweep-olds, but no threes and fours. 

Well, that's not entirely true. There's an oliveblooded adult maybe ten feet from you, with a little indigo clutching their skirt and a goldblood grub on their shoulder. You're immediately fascinated, both by the mixedblood family—they _are_ a family, the adult is the parent, you can read that by how they move around the little ones—and by the possibility that they'll come close enough for you to say hi. New friends are a good thing. 

The indigo notices you staring and gives you a bright, crooked-toothed smile. You grin back, sticking out your tongue to make up for your lack of fangs, and the kid giggles and looks up to ask her parent a question. Hopefully about the possibility of coming over to talk to you. That's the question you'd be asking Mindfang if she wasn't in the middle of a negotiation. 

You're going to end up asking her anyway, because the adult troll glances over at you, then back at their kid, hesitating for a moment before shaking their head. You can guess what they're thinking: _don't bother the higherblooded one._

But you _really_ want to talk to the kid. 

So you pull on Mindfang's coat, looking up at her as she looks down in mild surprise. "What's wrong, wriggler?" she asks, leaning down to scoop you up into her arms and examine you for mystery bruises. Which makes sense; usually you're the one who's content to follow and watch, not ask for things. Especially not from a finmeat vendor. "Something happen?" 

"I wanna say hi," you tell her, and squirm to get in a position where you can point at the mixedblood family. You actually point before you look, so for a second you don't understand why Mindfang's eyes first narrow them go wide in concern. 

"Oh, _fuck,_ " she mutters. 

You turn to look. 

Well, now there's another adult troll who's separated himself from the crowd. He's a purple, you think, lacking the finned ears of a seadweller but a full head taller than the tips of the oliveblood's gently curved horns, and he's using every inch of that height to intimidate them. The olive's already hunched down, head bowed and wrists crossed over their sternum for some small measure of protection. Not that it'll do a lot. Their grub's mouth is open in either a hiss or a snarl, you can't hear from here, and their other kid is trying to hide behind them, eyes wide and terrified. 

You can _feel_ Mindfang's power gathering. It makes you want to shake your head until the feeling goes away; you resist that urge, since it won't do anything other than give you a headache. She'll use her mind-control to defuse things, it'll only take a minute, it'll be fine—

The purpleblood twitches as he feels the first spidersilk tendrils of influence settle over his mind, and his face twists into a full-on threat growl, one hand darting out towards the olive. For a second you think he's going to hit them. 

What he actually does is worse, though, because he grabs the goldblood grub by the scruff of the neck, dragging it off its parents shoulders. The olive cries out and the grub squeals in alarm, but the purple just takes a step back and flicks his wrist, bringing a knife out from a concealed sheath under his sleeve like the world's most deadly magic trick. 

Mindfang snarls. 

The purpleblood doesn't seem to know that her noise is even directed at him, if he hears at all. He sets the tip of the blade just under the grub's right eye, not quite pressing down.

Yet. 

He will in a minute, though. And it won't take much to send that knife deep enough to blind or even kill. 

You want to scream, but you know that doing that would just break Mindfang's concentration—she's still grimly focused on the purpleblood, trying to get enough control over him to force him to stop. She's probably not going to be able to do it, but she's not giving up either. 

It's not making a difference. 

Then the most familiar voice barks out, " _No._ " A blade easily three times as long as the purpleblood's knife flickers out, scoring a cut along the hand that's holding the knife, and he swears and drops the grub in favor of clutching at the violet that's already staining his shirt, whirling to face the threat. 

The threat is your bro. The threat is D Strider, with his sword out and ready in an attack stance, teeth bared in something that's not quite a smile. 

You think it's a challenge. You're three sweeps old, but you know a challenge when you see one. 

So does the purpleblood. He drops the knife, barely even glancing at the oliveblood as they snatch up their grub from the ground, and draws a broad, curved sword with a strangely serrated edge that scares you even though you believe with all your heart that D can beat anyone in a fight. 

D lunges at the troll, and Mindfang turns away to hand you off to the shopkeeper, ignoring your cry as the movement cuts off your view of your bro. "Lose him and I'll snap your horns off and use them to gut you with," she snarls, and the poor rustblood chirrs in understanding as he takes you. 

You want to thrash until he puts you down, but she probably would kill him for that, so instead you wind one arm around his neck to steady yourself and watch D fight. 

He's amazing. He's fast. He's _scary,_ not because you're afraid of him but because he's so obviously in a fight for his life, even if blood hasn't been drawn in it yet. D blocks, parries, and redirects every blow, but it's obvious that his own attempts to attack aren't making it through either. The two of them are too closely matched, nothing's going to decide this but simple deadly mistakes—

The purpleblood makes a rough, low-pitched sound, and D yelps as he retreats a step. You didn't see the attack that did it, but you do see the fresh line of red across his collarbone. So close to his throat...

"Get your shit together, Serket!" D shouts, dodging instead of trying to parry this time. 

"Shut _up_ , Strider!" she snarls back at him. That has the effect of pulling the purpleblood's attention off the fight and onto her, for a split second. 

Which is all she needs. 

You can't feel her power wrap his mind tight and tether him to her will. She's not holding you anymore, after all. But you see his eyes flash blue for a second, and before they even clear his hands open and drop to his sides, the strange blade clattering uselessly on the stones. 

D doesn't move toward him. Not yet. 

"Get him down, Mindfang," he says instead, and takes a second to draw in breath. The entire fight took perhaps two minutes, but he's still panting slightly. "He can talk; don't let him fuckin' move." 

As soon as D stops talking, the purpleblood falls to his knees. You can see his jaw work; he's absolutely _furious_ about this. 

"Can't hold him forever, Strider," Mindfang warns. 

"You won't have to." D takes a step forward, raising his sword until the tip is maybe a handspan away from the purpleblood's face. "Got an explanation, asshole? Better make it good." 

He gets a wordless snarl in response, and then: "Deviant scum such as that deserves to be exterminated before—" 

Mindfang silences him before D can say anything, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "He's very interested in killing that midblood," she points out. "And anyone else he can get away with, who's got wrigglers outside their bloodcaste. Bastard." 

"Bastard," D echoes. For a second, he hesitates. 

Then something about the set of his shoulders changes, and he says, "Let him up." 

You think Mindfang mutters something like "you _idiot,_ " but the purpleblood's eyes flare cerulean again, and as soon as the color drains away he's lunging up at your bro. 

D doesn't move back. He doesn't really need to—maybe the troll could rip him apart, but the sword is still in his hand and it only takes two small, quick movements to slice deep enough that no amount of pressure can stem the flow of purple blood. 

As the purpleblood troll sinks to his knees again, D turns away, running one hand through his hair and sighing shakily as Dualscar _finally_ steps up next to him. He surrenders his sword to the seadweller, but twists away rather than let his cut be touched. 

"Get Dirk home," your bro says, almost too quietly for you to hear. 

Dualscar whines unhappily. "I'm not going to—" 

"Take my _fucking_ kid to 'Rosa," D growls. "I'm guessing Serket's calling Redglare; I really fuckin' doubt I'm gonna be in all that much trouble, but it's gonna be time-consuming as _fuck,_ and Dirk ain't sittin' through that. Take him home." 

Dualscar hesitates. Then he hands back D's sword, leans down to kiss him, and comes to collect you from the now-terrified shopkeeper, crooning deep in his chest and smoothing your hair down as everything that just happened finally processes and you start to cry.

* * *

You fall asleep between one place and another, while Dualscar's still holding you, and when you wake up you're in one of Dolorosa's blanket piles, with two other bodies cuddled up to you. 

From the body temperature and size of the two, one is Hal and the other is probably Nepeta. You squirm a little, just enough to glance around and confirm your guess. 

Yep. 

Hal blinks at you. Of _course_ he's awake. 

"I want D," you tell him. 

"Handmaid said he'd be back in an hour," your twin tells you softly. "That was, like, almost an hour ago. What happened?" 

"Somebody died." You can't help but shiver, and Hal shifts so he can hold out his arms for you to move into. "D's gonna be in trouble." 

"Why?" You know he's not asking why D's in trouble. 

"He was gonna hurt a grub." 

Hal stiffens a little, his grip on you tightening. "That's _awful_." 

"Yeah. D made him stop, then he tried to hurt D, then _Mindfang_ made him stop." 

"Was Mindfang holding the guy when D killed him?" 

"No." 

"Okay." Hal makes a considering sound, then nods. "Okay. D's dumb." 

" _What_?" 

"Because he didn't kill him when he couldn't fight back. But he's _smart,_ because now he can say it was an accident. Or that he had a reason." 

"He did have a reason! The purple, he was gonna kill the—" 

Hal paps your forehead and you shut up, mostly out of surprise. "Grownups are weird, you know that. He did it that way for a reason, trust me." 

"No _way,_ " you tell him automatically, because usually when he's saying you should trust him you really shouldn't. And he laughs and pulls you up closer, and you growl at him and butt your head against his chest, careful to not actually hurt him. 

That's how the two of you are ten minutes later, when D comes into the room. Of course, as soon as he says your name, you're up out of the pile, throwing yourself at him and clinging when he catches you, grabbing onto his neck as Hal jumps to be held as well. 

D winces a bit, gently disengaging your hands from the bandaged place on his shoulder. "Careful, guys." 

Hal pats at the spot, lightly enough to not hurt D. "Dirk didn't tell me you got _hurt. Nobody_ said you got hurt," he points out accusingly. 

"Hey, not everybody has perfect recall, kiddo." D shrugs, kissing first the top of Hal's head and then your forehead, grinning at the giggles that gets from both you and your twin. "I'm fine, other'n that I'm hungry. And I bet you are too, right?" 

...now that he mentions it, you _are._

Hal nods, you nod, and D sets you both on the ground and holds out his hands to be held. Once he's got that, he leads you and Hal out of the room, to find Dualscar so you can all go home.


End file.
